


to build a home

by nightingvle



Series: mahariel march [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Other, Post-Dragon Age: Origins - Witch Hunt DLC, non-binary mahariel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightingvle/pseuds/nightingvle
Summary: "And I built a home,For you,For me"
Relationships: Mahariel/Morrigan (Dragon Age), Morrigan/Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: mahariel march [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651615
Kudos: 4





	to build a home

**Author's Note:**

> for day 3 of mahariel march, in which the prompt was "home!"

The two lovers walk hand in hand through the forest’s ever twisting trails, mabari trailing behind with his nose stuck firmly to the ground. For most, it would be all too easy to find themselves lost within were one not familiar with the path. Even Ashahra, who has spent most of their life navigating the forest finds themself looking back as if in a haze. Have we not passed that winding tree before, they wonder? But their guide walks with such certainty that they find the answer to their own question. This is a place Morrigan is familiar with, that much she knows. It is a comforting thought—enough to quell her nerves somewhat, though she suspects that feeling mostly stems from the anticipation. 

Morrigan steps around a fallen tree trunk, overgrown with moss, without so much as sparing a second glance. Ashahra’s lips quirk up slightly at the thought of one day doing the same, of being so familiar with this land they could navigate it with their eyes shut.

This is how much of their journey goes—Morrigan navigates the forest as if she has walked this path a thousand times while Ashahra, being led by the hand, does as she does. They walk for what must surely be half a sun length before Asha starts to wonder if they’re to walk through these woods for a lifetime. It wouldn’t surprise her after all she’s seen and Morrigan, for her part, hasn’t spoken many words. Perhaps she will reveal everything once they arrive, if they ever do, but until then, thoughts such as these cross the elf’s mind. 

Truthfully, they wouldn’t even mind. Nature, and within the arms of the forest, is where Ashahra has always felt more at home. Wandering forever within doesn’t sound like such an awful fate, and certainly not when their hand is being held by the witch of the wilds herself. They had said they wanted to be with her, no matter what, and they meant it.

The sound of rushing water eventually reaches her ears as more sunlight pours out from an opening ahead. They continue their walk, Morrigan looking back at her only once with something resembling hesitation. Does she think they will leave her still? That they will turn back after coming with her so far? Ashahra does not break the silence between them, but gives her hand a comforting squeeze, all while wishing Morrigan could read their thoughts, could feel the love inside of them full to spilling. If Morrigan had any lingering doubts, they seem to be gone because of that one gesture, or perhaps by reading the elf’s expression, for her expression seems to soften and they continue on their way. 

The trees thin out into an opening before them and Ashahra lets out a gasp at the sight which greets them. A large cottage stands in the middle, though perhaps grows would be a better way to describe the sight, for it looks as if it came from the forest itself—moss comes up to meet the stone it’s made from, the trees making up its structure with their wood. A bit further away is a river, flowing through the clearing and into the forest to provide for the life within. To the right, a variety of vegetables sprout from the ground, suitable enough to live off of. And that’s when it dawns on them.

“We’re here.” 

“Yes,” Morrigan speaks at last, and it feels as if some sort of spell has broken between them. “Tis’ where we’ve been staying.” She hesitates before continuing. “Kieran is already inside.”

“Kieran…”

The woman falters for just a moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Or perhaps that is merely how Ashahra feels and they are mistaking her hesitation for something else. This is all they’ve been searching for ever since Morrigan left and yet now that they have it, Asha feels… different. It is a nice feeling, yes, but this is also something they’re not used to. They don’t know how to handle this and they don’t want to ruin everything, not when it is going so perfectly. But Morrigan does eventually respond, quelling the worried thoughts within the elf.

“Tis’ the child’s name.” Asha had thought she would stop there, that perhaps even reaching this place would not be enough for her to tell them everything, but Morrigan surprises her. “He is two, now. And I have told him of you so do not complain to me of him not knowing you.”

To others, that biting tone at the end of her words might sound cruel, defensive, and perhaps the latter part is true. Ashahra has known her long enough to know how uncomfortable she is with showing vulnerability, with showing the softer side of her that she believes to be a weakness. Ashahra knows that now, and they do not mind. Hers is a voice they dreamt of nearly every night and missed oh so dearly.

“It’s a lovely name,” Ashahra says in response. “And thank you, for telling him of me.”

“I—do not thank me,” she says, avoiding her love’s gaze. “I could not let him go without knowing you.”

Ashahra says nothing, but gives her what feels like her first genuine smile in years before strolling through the clearing. She looks this way and that, taking in every detail, inhaling every scent, relishing in every breath. So many years she had spent longing for this, searching for her, and now she finally has both her and the child. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off her chest and she can breathe at last.

“This place,” Asha says at last, eyes still wandering, only now noticing the apple tree that looms over her. “It’s beautiful.”

Morrigan laughs, and Ashahra hopes she can hear that sound for all the remaining days of her life. “I suspected you would like it.”

“Like it?” Ashahra turns to her now, eyes half-lidded and a dazed smile upon their face. “I love it.”

Morrigan, too, finds herself smiling. Not one of amusement nor mockery. No, nothing like that. It is the same one Asha can recognize on their own expression, serene and with it, _relief_. Relief that they have survived all they’ve been through and that, despite all odds, here they stand—together at last.

There is something else behind her eyes, however. The witch’s eyes are lowered to the ground and Asha knows that look all too well. There is something she wishes to say, but is struggling to say it. There are times when she has the sweetest things to say, words that she keeps buried deep down, reserved only for the stories she reads but will never admit to. Ashahra understands why, of course. The tale of the golden mirror was but a glimpse into her mother’s cruelty, only the first of many stories Asha is sure she has not yet told them. Her mother shattered any semblance of sentimentality or softness alongside the mirror that day, and it will take time for Morrigan to feel comfortable revealing those sides of herself again. All Ashahra can do is be there for her as she does, patiently waiting and listening. And so, they gently take her hand and rub circles with their thumb as they tilt their head curiously, hoping Morrigan will decide to share her thoughts today.

Morrigan looks into their eyes and relaxes slightly. She covers their linked hands with her other before opening her mouth to speak, seeming to hesitate upon the words.

“I searched and searched until we found this place,” she starts, voice lowered to almost a whisper. “The moment I laid eyes upon it I… I _knew_ you would love it. I could just imagine how you would react the moment you saw it, and I did. Many days and nights.” She looks away shyly, that familiar look of vulnerability Asha has seen upon her face many times since encouraging her to open up. “I wondered—would they react as I did, taking in a breath as they think of all the times we talked of having such a home? Or perhaps they would merely smile, as they tend to do whenever they find themselves in the forest and I, too, would smile.”

“Oh, Morrigan.” Any other words are lost to her. Too many feelings are welling up inside of her until they’re a web left to be untangled. She feels something deep inside of her brighten, a part of her that had felt so numb ever since she lost her love.

“Do… Do not cry, else I will begin to tear up as well.” Morrigan scowls, rubbing a hand across her cheek and quickly dropping it to her side.

Ashahra giggles, earning herself an eye roll from Morrigan but there is a smile across her lips as well. 

“Come now,” Morrigan offers up her hand once more, which Asha readily accepts. “Tis’ time you met our son.”

As Morrigan leads her to the door, the two exchange one last look before she pushes the door open. The scent of cedar wood and dried herbs fills Asha’s nostrils and it is only then that she lets out a breath she never realized she has been holding for so long.

At last, she is home.


End file.
